


The Last Hours Tumblr Prompts

by baelinwhitethorn



Category: Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6269077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baelinwhitethorn/pseuds/baelinwhitethorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All TLH Tumblr Prompts from my blog bookscatsandunhealthyobsessions (then booyoushipwhore).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Cordelia Carstairs, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible,” the voice mail told Lucie for the fourth time that afternoon.

Lucie sighed, wondering why her roommate was not picking up. Of course, she had started American Horror Story last week and proclaimed to be horribly in love with Tate Langdon (she considered his murdering other people a minor character flaw that she would overlook on the simple agreement that he would have her babies). If Lucie knew her best friend at all, she was probably laying down on her bed reading Tate and Violet fanfiction. If Cordelia were really treating herself, there was a box of chicken fried rice and sesame chicken beside her.

Finally deciding that she wasn’t going to get her friend’s attention, she texted, “I’m going to my parents’ house to get dinner tonight. Might save you some if you actually talk to me!”

That was her last hope, seeing as the one thing Cordelia loved more than Chinese take-out was Lucie’s mom’s cooking. It wasn’t really that fair, considering Cordelia’s parents were in another state and Lucie only had to drive ten minutes from her university to get to her parents’ house. Of course, that was really inconvenient when family she didn’t like came over to stay at their house (like her Uncle Stephen).

“Oh, I’m just going to stay in tonight. Hot date with the bae,” Cordelia texted back, interrupting Lucie’s mental smack talk towards her uncle. Underneath what Cordelia had texted was a picture of Evan Peters in Asylum.

“I thought you didn’t like Kit Walker… Figured you were more for bad boys,” Lucie replied, smirking. Cordelia had given a long rant last night how Asylum was nowhere near as good as Murder House and that Violet and Tate were her OTP and then something about how Kit Walker was a pansy or something. It was actually a lot more horrifying than Lucie could describe. Cordelia was notorious for being the bad side of almost any fandom. She was the type to send death threats to people for making fanart of her NOTPs.

“You’re right. I’m going back to Murder House. Netflix is the only reason I attempt to be a good person,” was Cordelia’s slightly delayed answer.

Lucie was immediately suspicious. Cordelia would never quit a show midseason just because she didn’t like a character. Also, she wasn’t texting as quickly as she normally did. Cordelia wasn’t the type to wait a minute before responding. Instead, she’d send over like twenty texts if Lucie took more than five minutes.

Lucie knew her plan. She was going to not respond for twenty minutes before deciding her further plan.

Of course, that required doing something besides talking to Cordelia for twenty minutes. If Cordelia were here, they’d probably be going to a party or something (Cordelia had always been the extrovert of the two), but no, Cordelia was betraying her friendship or something.

Lucie searched the contents of her car. Four books that she had taken from her dad’s personal library (and had already read), her laptop (it wasn’t charged, so she couldn’t write), a textbook Anna had left in her room that she had planned on giving to her soon, James’s reading glasses that he’d left in the back, a box of emergency tampons, her Calculus textbook, and jumper cables. She pursed her lips before deciding she’d drop the clothes off at her cousin’s apartment.

The drive to Anna’s apartment was short, and her cousin walked out immediately, hair pinned elegantly in the back. Her current girlfriend, Katie, long blonde hair braided down one side, stood behind her.

“Hey guys,” Lucie said, “I’m giving Cordelia a twenty minute silent treatment. Mind if I come in?”

They both grinned at her, and Anna’s grin widened when she saw what Lucie was holding.

“You realize I left that in your room two weeks ago, right?” she asked, “I’m pretty sure at this point you just keep it.”

“To be fair, James’s glasses have been in my car for three weeks, and dad’s books have been there a solid month at least,” Lucie told her.

“How is Uncle Will?” Anna asked, “Still trying to convince Chris and Henry to make the duck repellent?”

“I’m quite certain his journey in defeating ducks has become surprisingly futile,” Lucie laughed.

“And it wasn’t before?” Katie said to her.

“To be fair, he at least doesn’t accompany Mom when she goes to the park,” Lucie defended, still giggling.

“So why are you ignoring Cordelia?” Anna asked, handing her a glass of Earl Gray tea (she kept it to annoy Jace, the oldest of the Herondale cousins).

“She’s acting funny. She never stops midseason on a show, and yet today she did.”

“And this is bad why?” Katie raised her brows.

“Because she never does that. I suspect it’s a boy,” Lucie held her usual tone when gossiping (which she never got to do with anyone besides Anna and Cordelia anyways).

“A boy? Preposterous! Next she’s going to go to school or get a tattoo or have sex before she’s married!” Anna sarcastically responded.

“It’s a big deal because she didn’t tell me,” Lucie pouted.

“Have you considered that maybe she just quit watching the season because she didn’t like it?” Katie asked, clearly confused as to how Lucie got to the whole boyfriend thing in the first place.

“But it’s American Horror Story! She would never quit midseason just to restart Murder House,” Lucie protested.

“I would,” Katie mused, “Asylum’s subplot was so ridiculous! How are you going to involve Nazis, aliens, and an insane asylum from the sixties in the same season? Murder House, truly, was the best season.”

“That’s not the point,” Lucie groaned, “Why couldn’t she tell me that instead of taking forever to respond to my texts?”

“I don’t know, but it has been twenty minutes,” Anna told her, “Why not just go back to your dorm and ask her if something’s up?”

“I will,” Lucie told her, “And she will regret not texting back!”

Little did Lucie know, it was going to be her that was going to regret it.

After driving to her dorm, Lucie stomped up the flight of stairs before reaching her room. On the door was a cute little drawing that Jace’s girlfriend, Clary, had done of Cordelia and Lucie with the words, “Cordelia and Lucie’s room, always welcoming any male celebrities possible.”

Shoving open the door, Lucie immediately regretted it. Standing in front of her was the most horrible sight she had ever seen.

Her brother James and her best friend Cordelia. Kissing. With tongue.

“Holy shit!” was the first thing Lucie screamed before the words started blurring together in horror.

They had already pulled away from each other, but the blushes on their faces weren’t helping their standings with Lucie any further.

“When?” Lucie finally said quietly, after yelling for a good five minutes.

“Well, a few months ago, your brother and I kissed and um, we’re kind of dating now,” Cordelia said, blush as bright as her hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lucie asked.

They glanced at each other, “We didn’t know how you would take it, considering that you freaked out when Cordelia told you that she had a crush on me.”

“But,” Lucie whispered, “You’re my best friend. And my brother.”

“You realize you just referenced Friends, right?” Cordelia asked.

“I’m aware, Traitor!”

“Me dating your brother is not betraying you,” Cordelia sighed.

“Yes, it is! I would never date Alastair!”

“Who would?” James and Cordelia said at the same time.

“That’s not fair!” Lucie complained.

“Would it make you feel better if we told you we loved each other?” James asked.

“You love me?” Cordelia whispered.

“Oh, dear Lord, get a room!”


	2. The Obligatory Coffeeshop AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucie meets Jesse, in a coffeeshop. Because the rules of fanfiction state that you must get together that way.

“I don’t see why getting Starbucks is the answer to crying about being too broke for college,” Lucie pondered as Cordelia gulped down the (venti) Mocha Latte.

“Shut up,” she whined, “I _just_ stopped crying!”

“Which means you’re fair game now,” Lucie explained, a smirk growing on her face.

“Shouldn’t you be working on your novel or on that paper that’s due tomorrow?” Cordelia asked her, trying to distract her.

Not falling for it, Lucie responded, “Some of us actually finish our papers the night they’re assigned and edit each night. And I refuse to work on that novel. I’m trying this thing where if I just imagine that it’s being written, I’ll pull up the document and it’ll be done. So far unsuccessful, but I think it’s just that I don’t believe enough.

“That’s definitely it,” Cordelia told her, rolling her eyes.

“By the way, aren’t you like supposed to be obsessing over James or whatever couples do?” Lucie asked, “Aren’t you in love or something?”

“You realize that couples don’t have to spend all of their time together, right?” Cordelia commented, “And, yes, we are in love. Get over it.”

“I hardly see how my mental scarring could be fixed by simply ‘getting over it’, Delia,” Lucie made a face in horror at the memory.

“You could have knocked!” Cordelia spluttered.

“On my own dorm?”

“Well, yeah.”

They glared at each other, trying to figure out who would win.

“Hey!” a boy called from behind Lucie, and she turned to face him with an arched brow.

“Yes?”

He walked over to where Cordelia was sending her the “omg, he’s kind of hot” look. She gave her the “omg, you’re kind of a weirdass” look.

“Lucie, right? Your brother used to date my adoptive sister, I think,” the boy said, “Remember me?”

“Um,” Lucie thought about it, only remembering a dorky pubescent boy, “ _Oh,_ you- you look- different…”

Cordelia shot her another look, winking before standing up slowly and saying, “Well, I’ve gotta run. I have some Coven to watch.”

Lucie broke her eye contact with the boy, “ _Really?_ Coven? You started like last week.”

“To be fair,” Cordelia started, which meant Lucie was probably not going to be fair, so she turned around and gave a flirty smile to the boy behind her.

“Jerk!” Cordelia called from behind her, but she wasn’t paying attention.

“So, why’d you ask?” Lucie faintly heard Cordelia shutting the door of the coffee shop behind her.

“Oh, I was wondering if you could read over the essay that is due tomorrow, since you’re in my English lit class,” he said, pulling out a laptop.

_Oh, great, a slacker. And also, when did he get into my class?_

Instead of voicing her thoughts, Lucie only shot him another flirty smirk (he was really hot, and she was single- why not?) and nodded.

He pulled up the document on his laptop before passing over it.

While she was editing, they kept a steady stream of conversation. (Also, she found out his name was Jesse Blackthorn- it would have been really awkward to ask for it when he remembered hers)

By the time she finished, she handed him back the laptop, a cheerful smile on her face.

“So, how is college?” Jesse asked her, and she smirked.

“I enjoy it, but I’m not a fan of Cordelia forcing me to take Calculus with her. It’s not that bad, I guess. My cousin Anna sometimes comes and helps me with it.”

“How’s James?” he said, sipping the iced coffee (he actually had instagrammed it, much to Lucie’s amusement- to be fair, if you’re paying five bucks for coffee, you should take pictures, save the cup, model with it, whatever you need to get your money’s worth).

“Oh, he’s dating Cordelia now, and he’s very annoying about it. He actually wrote a poem about her. It was so laughable though. I actually went to spoken word night at Sauced and performed a dramatic reading of it. It was wonderful.”

Jesse laughed, “I’d have loved to hear that.”

“Oh, it was terrible. He did that thing where he talked about his rib cages that if you’ve ever been to a SLAM would know that you hear a lot of it. I started crying I was laughing so hard. Also, his repetition was horrible. He had to use the worst phrase to say over and over again. I mean, I realize I write novels and not poetry, but seriously, I write enough to know that that poem was certainly not enough to be his best work.”

“I was saying I’d love to hear you saying it, actually,” Jesse said, “You have a nice voice.”

“Oh, you tempt me so! Soon I shall fall into the trap of your pantaloons,” Lucie retorted.

“Your sarcasm wounds me,” Jesse grinned, a hand on his chest, “However will I recover? Perhaps you should heal me!”

“By being nice?” Lucie giggled (oh great, she giggled for a boy).

“Or by giving me your number, that would work too,” Jesse replied.

“You realize that you could have any sort of pick up line ever, but you give me that? Deplorable. Give me a pick-up line each day for the next week, and, if it’s creative enough, I’ll consider.”

“But how am I going to do that without your number?” he laughed.

“That’s one, Blackthorn,” Lucie told him, standing up to exit the shop.

Lucie flipped to the next chapter in her Calculus textbook, outlining questions she had for Anna. Working through the example problem was troubling considering what her eyes had fallen witness to.

“Seriously, James, don’t you have a life that isn’t hitting on my best friend,” Lucie pouted, listening to the couple’s constant stream of giggling. It was horrifying. Her brother and best friend had gone soft. For each other. Gross.

“You realize that this is one half my dorm too,” Cordelia told her, “And we aren’t even touching!”

“Don’t think I didn’t see that hug earlier,” Lucie argued.

“Hugs are the leading cause of pregnancy in America! How could I forget? I hear the kids these days are also, gasp, holding hands! That’s not even something you should do to someone you’re married. No wonder STDs plague this great nation,” Cordelia replied dryly.

“You realize that you’re only helping my case by admitting to be passing each other STDs like candy, right?” Lucie responded.

James was glancing between the two with a smirk, “You’re not going to win this fight, Daisy. Lucie will go on for hours about how we’re being irresponsible.”

“I see no problem with the matter,” Lucie sniffed indignantly.

“We know,” they told her at the same time. It was so disgusting.

“Besides, you’re one to talk, Lucie, considering the dopey eyes you were giving Jesse earlier,” Cordelia told her.

“Wait, Jesse, as in Jesse _Blackthorn?_ ” James had his protective older brother look on. Great.

“You know his last name, congratulations,” Lucie told him.

“You can’t date him!” James spluttered.

Lucie glared at him, “And why not? You’re dating someone that I wish you wouldn’t date, but you aren’t planning on breaking up with Cordelia any time soon.”

“But that’s different! Cordelia isn’t my brother’s ex-girlfriend’s brother!” James countered.

“Yes, but you are dating my best friend!”

“But you can’t do that!”

“You can’t tell me what to do!”

Cordelia sighed, “You guys need to quit arguing. If Lucie wants to go out with him, James, that’s hardly you’re problem. Besides, you have me now. And I’m so much hotter than Grace anyways. Like seriously, if anybody is going to be upset, it’s her. Like, do you see my eyebrow game right now?”

“Cordelia, did you just manage to make our argument about the fact that you spent this morning shaping your eyebrows?” Lucie asked, breaking eye contact with James.

“So you agree that they’re awesome! Thanks Luce,” Cordelia gave her a winning smile, probably planning to blog about the events of the day.

“You guys are straying from the important issue!” James whined, “Lucie can’t date him.”

“Lucie _can_ date him, and is going to just because of your whining,” Lucie replied, a firm glare pulling over her features.

“So my eyebrows are great, right?” Cordelia broke the silence.

“Yes, Cordelia,” the Herondale siblings replied, still having a staring contest.

“Oh, crap, James you have to go. It’s eight forty. Dorm requires you gone by nine,” Cordelia told him. He nodded and kissed her cheek before sending one last glare to Lucie.

When he was gone, Lucie asked, “Would you be okay with me dating Jesse?”

Cordelia rolled her eyes, “If you don’t date that kid, I will. And it would be really awkward. I’d have to juggle Jesse and James- OHMYGOSH THEY’RE TEAM ROCKET. WE’RE DATING TEAM ROCKET. LUCIE, YOU HAVE TO MARRY HIM SO WE CAN BE MARRIED TO TEAM ROCKET.”

The next day, Lucie saw Jesse in her English lit class.

“Hello there, Lucie,” Jesse said, before pulling out a few pages of paper. She scanned it a bit before realizing that it was a list.

“I googled them, but I thought they were very creative,” he told her.

“You’re a dork,” Lucie giggled.

“Yes, but I am for you,” he replied, grinning.

“Is that one of them? Because it’s weak, Blackthorn, it’s weak,” she smiled.

“And are you saying that that is a bad thing? Sometimes the weakest flames are the ones that burn down buildings.”

“Making comments that you would put on Tumblr to look deep doesn’t count as a pick-up line,” Lucie told him.

“Damn, and here I thought I was getting somewhere. You’re tough to please, Herondale.”

Before the class started he handed her the list, and at the end, she told him, “I’m going to write this down and it’s up to you whether you keep it.”

He grinned, grabbing the number from her immediately.


	3. Project Jordelia Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Will makes a master plan to get his son together with a Carstairs.

    Cordelia plopped down next to Lucie, pulling out her US binder.   
    “Are you going to send a Valentine’s gram to Jesse?” she asked her as she started readying her intense format of notes (her teacher actually asked her to stop trying so hard because she stressed herself out so much).  
    “Why would I do that? They cost money. Why would you spend money on saying “ur cool” or whatever,” Lucie replied, doodling over FDR’s face.   
    “Well, I was just wondering if I should…” Cordelia said.  
    “Ooh, who’s the boy?” Lucie asked, actually glancing up at her friend.  
    Cordelia felt her face warm, which only seemed to make Lucie grin harder.  
    “Well now I have to know! Oh, is it a girl? That’d be great. Is Grace single?   You know I’m a little upset that you haven’t tol-”  
    “Lucie, it’s not a girl,” Cordelia interrupted her.  
    “Oh,” Lucie thought about it, “Oh! Do you have a crush on my dad? That’d be really weird.”  
    “No! At least Grace is my age,” Cordelia sighed.  
    “There’s a lot of girls that have a crush on my dad. You’d be lucky to have him,” Lucie sniffed. Their teacher, Mr. Mortmain, gave them a face. It was true; a lot of girls and boys had a crush on Mr. Herondale, the creative writing teacher. Of course, it was not as bad as the ogling Lucie’s mother, the AP English teacher got. It had never made much sense to Cordelia, considering Lucie and James were actually the students’ ages.  
    “I’m not attracted to your dad. Or your mom, if you were wondering.”  
    “I don’t know why you wouldn’t,” Lucie said, “If they made me, then they would have to be hot.”  
    “You realize that you just said your parents were hot, right?” Cordelia told her.  
    “And I don’t take it back,” Lucie replied.  
    “Miss Herondale, did you have something to add to the lecture?”  
    “Well, I think it was really lame of President Roosevelt to try to mess with the checks and balances,” Lucie told him, seemingly proud with her answer.  
    “I don’t think Mr. or Mrs. Herondale would like to know that their daughter is not paying attention in class.”  
    “I don’t think Mr. or Mrs. Herondale would like to know that their daughter is not not paying attention in class,” Lucie said, squinting her eyes and cocking her head to the side.  
    He set his finger up, silencing the class and pulling out a cellphone, texting someone. A few seconds later, he told Lucie that she was grounded for “using a double negative.”   
    As the lecture on The New Deal continued, Cordelia let her mind wander to James Herondale and whether or not she should send The Valentine’s Day Gram.  
*~*  
    “Alright, everyone,” James’s dad was saying, “Please work on your personal narratives for the rest of the hour. James, please come help me at my desk.”  
    James made a face, knowing that his dad had a box of books that he was moving to his wife’s classroom. Standing up, he walked resignedly to where his father was putting copies of 1984 in a neat pile.  
    “Yes?” James whispered, mindful of how the short girl in the front threw stuff at him when he spoke to loudly because “he interrupted her thinking process.”  
    “Would you go help Jem out? He asked for you.” Upon seeing James’s arched brow, he added, “Oh, and carry those books to your mother on your way to the orchestra room.”  
    As he was leaving the classroom a bunch of obnoxious pink signs assaulted him, informing him of the impending Hell that was Valentine’s Day and high schoolers’ reactions to it. It was so annoying how people felt the appropriate way of saying you cared about another was writing tacky cards with cheap suckers on them that gave money to fund the cheerleading squad’s new uniforms. They were even going to have a Valentine’s Day dance. Pursing his lips, he walked to his mother’s classroom.   
   “For answering questions like- Oh, hey, James, were those the ones Mr. Herondale sent?” his mother turned towards him, and he noted that she was holding a packet and that it looked like he should skip English today to avoid it.  
    “Um, yeah,” he said, and she pointed to the bookshelf by the board. When he passed by, he noticed a file on her desk that said, “Project Jordelia” in a Sharpie’d version of his father’s handwriting. He also noticed his mother making a face before whispering “I did not her to raise such a mistake.” Shrugging, he left the classroom and walked to the auditorium.  
    “Oh, James, I was wondering where you were,” Grace Cartwright said, standing by the water fountain.  
    “Why?” he told her, hoping that it was just the perfect ratio of “whatever” and “I’m not an asshole.”  
    “Well, I was wondering if you were buying any candy grams,” she asked him, brushing some of her hair out of her face.  
    “Oh, yeah, of course,” he said, hoping his blush was not completely obvious.  
    “Well, you better get one for me,” she laughed before strutting away. Instead of going to the auditorium, his racing heart led him to the office.   
    He pulled out a five, giving it to Charles Fairchild, and asked for some of the Valentine’s grams to sign.  
    He picked out blue ones for his parents and Lucie, simply signing his names. He smiled as he found the right shade of green that reminded him of Cordelia and wrote on the card, “You make me Daisy. Get it? Like dazey?  Well, your puns are bad too. –James.” Lucie was for sure going to yell at him. She was not a fan of the two having the joke of flirting with each other 24/7 in front of her. What really made it great was how much Alastair hated it.   
    As he picked the red one for Cordelia, he gulped. Finally deciding just to write, “As you asked”, he gave them to Charles with a nod.  
*~*  
    “So, are you going to get one or not?” Cordelia’s cousin, Jem, asked. She was supposed to call him “Mr. Carstairs” when they were in class, but she never did.   
    “Get what?” she asked, thumbing through the sheet music that she would be doing for her solo in a few months.   
    “You know, a Valentine. For James.”  
    She blushed. She really should never have told him about having a crush on James. Knowing him, Will and Jem probably already had files that said “Project Jordelia” or whatever.   
    “Let me guess, this was part of the plan? Have me a send a Valentine’s gram to James?”  
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said before telling her that they only had a few minutes before he was closing up the room for the night. She left.  
    As Cordelia was leaving, Jem anxiously typed a text to Will, saying, “I think Cordelia might know. Text the rest of the group that Project Jordelia might be a failure.”  
    A few seconds later, Henry texted, “A failure of Project Jordelia is a failure of science. No this will work out.”  
*~*  
    “Get tickets to the dance by the end of the day or pay the at the door price,” Grace said over the announcements. Lucie rolled her eyes, and Jesse laughed.  
    “Are you going to go, though? No joke,” Jesse murmured, staring ahead determinedly.  
    “Hell no,” she replied, then softly told him, “Grounded.”  
    “Oh?”  
    “Double negative.”  
    “Not again!”  
    “Why is everyone making such a big deal about this?”  
    “Your mother did not raise you to make such a mistake,” Lucie’s father cut in, moving his head in between them, in what Lucie would bet was to assert the “make way for Jesus” rule that was listed on his syllabus. The exact rule was, “Blackthorn and Herondales should be sitting a far enough distance that at least one* head could fit in between them.” The asterisk clarified the exact circumference that the head must be, which he’d had her mother measure, no doubt.  
    “Ohmygosh, I’m not going to not mess up sometimes,” Lucie sighed.  
    “Oh, how you violate the love we offer you,” her father sniffed indignantly before walking to the front of the classroom.  
    “Also, as Miss Cartwright forgot to mention, candy grams will be passed out in your sixth hours,” her father told the class before moving on to a long, boring lecture about their next project.  
    As they were about to leave the classroom, Jesse handed her a book.  
    “What is it?”  
    “Your Valentine’s Day gift. It’s this classic poetry book that’s from a bunch of people buried in a graveyard’s perspective.”  
   “You get me so well,” she told him seriously, leaning in and kissing his cheek really quickly.  
    “DETENTION LUCIE AND JESSE, IN SEPARATE ROOMS,” her father exploded, and she simply rolled her eyes.  
*~*  
    James glanced down at the table, smiling. The heart was the same shade of gold as his eyes. They’d signed it, “Hope I see you at the dance? Xoxo.”  
    He was certain that it had to be Grace’s. She would be the only one to send it.  
    Walking to English, his last hour, with a bounce in his step, he only continued grinning.  
*~*  
    Cordelia laughed at James’s clumsily written card, blushing. Lucie had thieved the sucker already, but she had pocketed the card before she could read it. When Cordelia had gotten home, she’d read it twenty times before getting the bravery to find her green dress and pulling her hair back.   
    She was going to go to the dance.  
*~*  
    James smiled at his reflection, running a brush through his hair. He wondered if Grace would like the suit.  
*~*  
     “Alright, Blackthorn, do you have the ipod and fairy lights?” Lucie asked her partner in crime. They were currently situated in the ceiling vents after crawling through them during their detentions. Lucie noted that the grime over his pale face gave him a rebellious look, which she had told him.  
    “I do. Where is the DJ?”  
    They glanced around before eyeing a bored looking Magnus Bane, who was writing down the request of Grace Cartwright.  
    “Do we have any pigs blood? I totally want to Carrie the shit out of that girl.”  
    “We can’t Carrie her!”  
    “We should Carrie her.”   
    “That’s mean, Lucie.”  
    “Your mom is mean.”  
     Jesse glanced down sadly, “That’s true.”  
     She patted his head, and they gaped down at the masses together.  
    “So, have you plugged the lights in?” Lucie asked.  
    “Yes,” he responded, nodding.  
    “Good,” she said before taking a deep breath.  
*~*  
    “Alright, you can do this,” Cordelia told her mirror’s reflection. She had put on green eye liner to match her dress, and she was regretting it. But her bright red lipstick added, so she convinced herself she’d look fine. The A Team by Ed Sheeran was playing in the background. She turned around. She walked towards the door. She would talk to him. She would.  
*~*  
    Where was Grace?   
    James wanted to talk to her.  
    “Woah, where are you going?” Mrs. Fairchild, his principal, asked him.  
    “Trying to find Grace,” he said, confused.  
    “Are you sure about that?” she continued.  
    “Why wouldn’t I be?” he was intrigued now.  
    “No reason,” she told him nonchalantly, “You have fun.”  
    “Alright?”  
     He turned his eyes skyward, seeing movement in one of the vents. Oh, no. His sister and her trouble maker friend were standing next to each other. Her eyes widened and she shoved her finger over her mouth, effectively silencing him. She waved Jesse down, and the boy gulped.   
    James would have paid attention to how that was going to turn out but just then Grace was beside him. He turned around, smiling. She was slightly swaying to the song, and his smile widened.  
    “Grace,” he greeted her.  
    “James,” she nodded.  
    They stared at each other a few seconds before she started laughing.  
“What?” he asked.  
    “Your hair is sticking up. Here, let me fix it.” And then her hand was touching his hair, and he was blushing, and then he leaned down, and then they were kissing.  
*~*  
    Cordelia took a deep breath. James was looking up. She just needed to tell him how she felt. She could do this. And she would do this.  
    She started barreling towards him, but then he was talking to Grace. And then her stomach started getting sick, and then her hand was in her hair, and then they were kissing.   
    Just as the song came to a close, Cordelia’s chin started dimpling up and her face reddened and then cooled slightly as the tears escaped.   
    “What’s wrong, honey?” she glanced up to see Mrs. Herondale staring down at her, a concerned and maternal look etched across her features.  
    “I-I’m sorry,” she gasped out, burying her face into James’s mother’s chest. James.   
*~*  
     It was as Cordelia cried and James was wrapped up in Grace that they fell. The slow song that had been playing stopped abruptly.   
   “I stay out too late  
   Ain’t got nothing in my brain  
   That’s what people say.  
   That’s what people say.  
   I go on too many dates  
   But I can’t make ‘em stay  
   At least that’s what people say  
   At least that’s what people say”   
    Like falling angels, they plummeted from the ceilings. Lucie at least had fairy lights that she was maneuvering as a pirate-like rope. Somehow, Taylor Swift’s music had made just as much an entrance as them.   
    “HELLO, STUDENT BODY OF ALICANTE HIGH SCHOOL. I AM LUCIE HERONDALE. AND I’M HERE TO TELL YOU THAT I AM NOT GOING TO BE STUCK IN DETENTION WHILE EVERYBODY DANCES. ALSO, TA-DA.”  
   She had reached the ground gracefully, but Jesse appeared to be sporting a swollen ankle.   
   A crowd of students formed around Lucie, and she nodded gracefully to them. They started chanting her name, seemingly worshipping her. A few even bowed. James and Grace had separated to see the action.  
   And then Lucie saw Cordelia, and she pulled her into her arms.   
   Lucie’s followers started threatening people with death on whoever hurt her BFF. Lucie then proclaimed, “We are going to dance until it doesn’t hurt anymore!”  
   “Ankle still hurting,” called Jesse’s voice ominously from the distance.  
   Lucie pulled Cordelia with her and they started swaying their hips from side to side, waving their hands in the air.  
   “Cause the players gonna play play play  
   And the haters gonna hate hate hate  
   And I’m just gonna shake shake shake  
   Shake it off  
   Shake it off”  
   The crowd roared, Lucie continued singing as loudly as she could to the music, and Cordelia even started getting into it.  
   And as the song came to an end, the two were lifted into the air and they were giggling.   
   “So what’s going on?” Lucie called over the music.  
   “I’m so over them!” Cordelia yelled back.  
   “Who? You like someone? Is it my dad?”  
   “I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH WILLIAM OWEN HERONDALE- Oh, hi, Mr. Herondale,” Cordelia waved for Lucie’s cult to set her down.  
   “I’m sorry, Cordelia. I’m a married man,” Mr. Herondale said, patting her head, “However, I think my son is the perfect fit for you.”  
   Cordelia’s face fell, “I don’t think he agrees.”  
   “So are you a lesbian then?” Lucie yelled, “Is it my mom? She’s really hot for her age!”  
   “I’M NOT A LESBIAN, LUCIE.”  
   “THEN WHO IS IT?”  
   “LUCIE, I LIKE JAMES,” Cordelia screamed, just as James was walking towards her.  
   “What?”  
   “BOND. JAMES BOND. SEAN CONNERY IS REALLY HOT. I’M IN LOVE WITH HIM. YEAH.”  
   “Really? Sean Connery?” Lucie asked, interrupting the intense eye conversation her brother and best friend were giving each other, “He is really hot. But how can you send a candy gram to him?”  
  Lucie trailed off, then her eyes widened, “Wait.”  
  Mr. Herondale lay his palm out against her mouth, not allowing her to vocalize her hypothesis.   
   James and Cordelia left together, still staring at each other as if they had never seen each other before. They were gone when Mr. Herondale released his hold on his daughter.  
   “Dad, I think that Cordelia likes James,” Lucie said, “But not James Bond, like James Herondale.”  
   “Regardless, I think Project Jordelia is a success,” Jem said to Will, and they nodded to each other. Nobody bothered listening to Jesse yelling for a nurse.


	4. Project Jordelia Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Will tries to get his son to date a Carstairs.

  Cordelia stood beside James by the gym, attempting to pull streamers out of her hair (Lucie’s cult was very excited).  
    “So, um, what you were saying…” he started, and she made a face.   
“What?” he asked, suddenly nervous that he’d said something wrong. Maybe that she didn’t really like him, and he was making an ass out of himself. And then there was Grace.  
    “Look, James, it’s nothing,” she was blushing, pulling the bright red hair into her face. He felt like such a jerk.  
    “Well, clearly, it’s not. Listen, Dais- Cordelia. I’m sorry,” he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. That’s all he knew.   
    “I don’t want you to be sorry. I’m going home,” she put up her hand as he tried to protest, “Go have fun with Grace then.”  
    She turned away. Even though he wanted more than anything to stop her, he knew that he would just cause more damage if he did.   
    So he left too, walking to Grace.  
*~*  
    “I can’t even begin to tell you how grounded you are,” Will was saying to his daughter, where her and the Blackthorn boy stood in the principal’s office.  
    “I don’t know, it was kind of funny,” Charlotte said, halting her laughter as he gave her a look.  
    “Sneaking off with _Jesse_ during your _detention_! Your mother and I are very upset,” he told her, using the teacher voice he knew she hated.  
    “I don’t know, Charlotte’s right,” Tessa started, and he sighed.  
    _“Does anybody realize that she could have gotten hurt?”_ Will called to the gods, glaring at the flood stained ceiling.  
    “Dad, I don’t even see why I’m in trouble,” Lucie said innocently, “There is absolutely no rule that we broke. Our time for detention had been served, even. Besides, in the list of rules in the Code of Conduct we sign yearly, it never says anything about climbing spy-like in the ceiling vents and Tarzanning down from fairy lights while hacking the DJ system to play Taylor Swift. None of the handbook says it, so technically neither you nor I have signed away my right to do for the school. So, I should not be put in any trouble by the school.”  
    _“Isn’t it implied that you aren’t allowed to climb spy-like in the ceiling vents and Tarzanning down from fairy lights while hacking the DJ system to play Taylor Swift is not allowed?”_ Will shouted.  
    “No, because it sounds way too awesome and elaborate to ban,” Charlotte offered.  
    “How are you so calm about this?” he exclaimed.  
    “Because it’s awesome,” Henry explained for his wife, and Tessa nodded her agreement.  
    “I don’t like any of you,” William proclaimed.  
    “Also, sweetie, as long as you promise not to do this again, we won’t ground you,” Tessa added.  
    “I did not agree to this punishment,” Will told her.  
    “Which is why we’re doing it,” Tessa replied.  
    “Wait, does that mean I can switch the songs and it is fair game?” Lucie asked, smiling when all of the faculty, save Will, nodded.  
*~*  
    “So, I saw your Valentine gram,” James said to Grace.  
    “What Valentine gram?” she asked him, arching a brow.  
    “The one you sent me? The gold one? That said, ‘Hope I see you at the dance? Xoxo’?” James was starting to get a bad feeling in his stomach that he was making a mistake.  
    “I never sent one,” she told him, and he wanted to slap himself.  
    “Grace, I’m sorry. I have to go.”  
*~*  
    Cordelia sat in her room, singing loudly along to angsty music that correctly matched her feelings. She was throwing all of James’s stuff in a pile of and was planning on putting it in a nicely wrapped package for James, so his presence could leave her room.  
    Her phone stopped playing for a second to alert her of a text, but she ignored it.  
*~*  
    He had just texted her, but she appeared to be ignoring it. He knew her phone got it because the loud music had paused for a few seconds and then resumed.   
    Sighing, James tried ringing the doorbell again, but nothing was working.  
    His phone began to ring, and, his heart pounding, he answered.  
    “Hey, fuckface, how do you fix a sprained ankle?” Lucie answered, and his heartbeat returned to normal. Then what she said registered.  
    “You know ‘fuckface’ is hardly a nice thing to call your brother that helps you through a lot of things,” he told her.  
    “Well, stop being a fuckface then,” she replied.  
    “How does one do that?” James asked her.  
    “Probably by telling their wonderful little sister how one fixes a sprained ankle because their boyfriend may or may not be crying.”  
    “Well, I would tell you, but I can’t. For I am a fuckface. Have fun figuring that out, little sister.”  
    “I HATE YOU JAMES HERONDALE,” she screamed before hanging up.  
    Shrugging off Lucie’s call, he decided he would call Cordelia.  
    “What do you want, fuckface?” Cordelia answered.  
    “Why is everybody calling me that today? What did I do?” James asked to no one in particular.  
    “Oh, you’ve done certainly enough. Lucie’s right, you are a fuckface. Bye, James. And stop ringing my doorbell. It’s giving me a headache,” Cordelia replied, and he resumed his self-hatred session.  
    “Daisy, wait,” he said then regretted it. He didn’t know what to say.  
    “What?” she snapped, “Here to make fun of me some more? _Poor little Cordelia freak for having a crush on her best friend’s brother. I bet she writes Jordelia fanfiction all of the time and has over a thousand views on Wattpad._ Well, you know what James, I don’t and I’m not in the mood to hear about that, really. So, go away.”  
    “What’s Jordelia?”  
    “That’s hardly the point!” she snapped, “Leave me alone!”  
    “Wait, Jordelia… James and Cordelia… That’s actually really cute. Can I read your fanfiction?”  
    “I don’t write Jordelia fanfiction,” he could hear the blush in her voice.  
    “But do you write fanfiction?” James asked.  
    “I definitely do not write _American Horror Story_ fanfiction! I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied.  
    “You know, I never understood people’s obsession with Tate. Kit Walker was such a better guy. Who, you know, didn’t rape somebody’s mom and father the antichrist…”  
    “ _He’s misunderstood,_ ” she hissed.  
    “Hey, Daisy?”

    “What?”  
    “Are you still mad at me?”  
    “Will you write on paper that Kit Walker is a pansy and have it notarized and framed above your bed?” Cordelia asked.  
    “Sure?” it came out as a question.  
    “Then, no, I’m not still mad at you.”


	5. Fangirl Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An honest heart to heart about Cordelia's obsessions.

    “You know,” James told her, “Your obsession is getting out of hand.”  
    “Shh, Jamie, you don’t understand the beauty that is Evan Peters,” Cordelia told him, glaring in a way that James felt personally terrified of. Of course, the corkboard filled with pictures of Quicksilver and Tate Langdon might be a little scarier.  
     “Daisy, you have me now. Am I not as good as Tate from American Horror Story?” James asked, only partially joking.  
     “James, don’t be ridiculous,” Cordelia giggled, “You could never be as wonderful as Tate from American Horror Story.”  
     “What do you want me to do, Cordelia Carstairs? Rape your mother and impregnate her with the antichrist?” James replied.  
     “HE’S MISUNDERSTOOD,” she shrieked in a rather shrill tone, leaving him (to sulk, most likely) (even if sulking was what Herondales were supposed to do).   
     Ever since James had confessed his love to Cordelia Carstairs in the sixth grade, she had made it a point to fall in love with a new male celebrity each month. He hated to get jealous over men that he would never meet, so he blamed the fragile ego that all men possessed. To be fair, he got away with a lot when he openly admitted that he could be a drama queen. Unless it was that weird girl in his creative writing class who would read her fanfiction in the middle of class and threaten to kill his father, who insisted that her OTP would never be anything but fanon. How his father knew what “fanon” meant might have been the more terrifying part of the scenario, so James tried to avoid thinking about it at all.  
     James’s thoughts on the matter were interrupted by the Game of Thrones theme blaring from his cellphone.   
     “Herondale,” he told the person on the other side.  
     “Other Herondale,” was his sister’s reply, “By the way, why do you have my number set to the GoT theme? Do you realize what that’s suggesting? That’s disgusting, James Herondale. I’m disgusted we share genetics.”  
     “First off, my ringtone for everyone is Game of Thrones theme because it’s about to start up again, second off, if your within a distance to hear my ringtone, why don’t you walk over to me and talk like, you know, a regular person,” he told the girl.  
    “How dare you suggest that I would get off my lazy ass to do that?” Lucie told him, “By the way, why were you being such a fuckboy about Cordelia’s crush on Evan Peters.”  
    “What’s a fuckboy?” James asked, “And do you and Cordelia just collaborate on insults for me? Because, while it’s not as bad as fuckface because it doesn’t seem to have any thought behind it, it’s like you guys always call me similar names and you always seem to know when she’s upset with me.”  
     “Calm down, fuckboy,” Lucie told him.  
     “Why did you call?” he said.  
     “Well, like, if Meghan Trainor says that he’s lying just because his lips are moving, doesn’t that mean he’s always lying? Doesn’t that make him a compulsive liar? If he’s a compulsive liar, then why does she stay with him? Like, Meghan, you teach us to be engineers and that you can be whatever weight you want, but you shouldn’t date a compulsive liar. I mean, sure, Meg, you might be dating him, but like you shouldn’t have ever dated a compulsive liar. You don’t deserve that. You’re too good for him. And nobody thinks you’re dumb, Meghan, but you don’t have to make a point of saying ‘ain’t’ because some people might not realize you’re being ironic and they’d probably be like ‘wow, you’re dumb though’. Also, James, stop being a dick to Cordelia. If she finds other men attractive and tells you about it, you never have to worry about her finding other men attractive and not telling you about it. Which is why we have tweeted about you being a fuckboy. By the way, check your twitter. Damn, Herondale, we tag you in everything but like you never retweet any of my stuff. And I’m hilarious! Seriously. Just a favorite would say that you care-“  
     “Spots, you’re going into your ranting,” James said, “It’s distressing.”  
     “Also, that song ‘Stuck On a Feeling’ with Prince Royce and Snoop Dogg? Is he talking about masturbation when he talks about that weird noise he gives? Because, ew. Also, why do people always sing about the nasty noo? Some people are uncomfortable with wing dang doodles and ding dang woodles, you know? And also, why do we not respect people’s need to have euphemisms for every nasty word? It’s literally the cutest when I do it. I’m way too cute for this, James.”  
    “Lucie, what were you saying about Cordelia?” James was trying to shepherd her into her saying what he was certain Cordelia told her. Lucie tended to gossip without realizing she was gossiping.   
     “Oh, yeah, Cory was like, ‘James is being such a dick about who I like. Why would I choose somebody who doesn’t know I exist over the biggest dork in the universe that happens to also be my favorite dork on the universe?’ It’s rather nasty. Like, she and Meghan Trainor need new boyfriends, you know? Anyways, so have you seen the new Daniel Radcliffe movie? It was wei-”  
James hung up on his baby sister, knowing he’d regret it. But he’d also regret it if Cordelia was really upset with him.  
     So he wrote her a poem. Then burned it. Because it looked about as terrible as what he would assume his Uncle Jem’s fanfiction journals probably looked like.   
     And then he prepared a speech. Then he kept stumbling over the words and gave up.  
     And then he arranged a set of flowers explaining his flowers. Then he realized that that was worse than literally anything he could be doing with his life.  
     And then he sang Adele songs and accepted that Cordelia would never really love him. Then the door knocked.  
     “Come in!” he called out.  
     Cordelia appeared a few seconds later, looking distraught.  
     “Was that Adele?”  
     “That’s not the point,” James said, crossing the room to her, raking a hand through his hair, “Cordelia, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t get jealous so easily. It’s just sometimes I get really nervous that you will one day realize how much better you are than me and give up on me, and I don’t want that. Daisy, I’ve loved you since our parents shoved us in that sandbox when we were little and you convinced me to eat four handfuls of sand. I’m so, so sorry that I upset you. It’s not healthy for me to be jealous. There’s no reason why I should get upset with you for showing interest in somebody else even if it’s just some actor for a TV show you’re obsessed with. I tried to put that in words for so long, but then I realized, it’s so simple. It’s so simple. Jealousy may eat me up, but making you unhappy is worse than anything I could ever imagine.”  
     “That’s great and all, but I heard you singing Adele for a solid forty minutes,” Cordelia told him, “Are you… _obsessed_ with something?”  
      “Um,” James stuttered.  
      “Omg, I’m so jealous,” and then he felt her smile against his lips and he was smiling too.


	6. The Changeling Poptart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She didn’t know why she did it. What possessed her. She had just been thinking, “Maybe it won’t be an issue.” She had been selfish. She knew that now. Regret overtook her the way she took everything good from the world. 
> 
> Or that time that James at a strawberry Poptart.

    The day was October 30th, and Cordelia was just excited about Halloween the next day. She meant no harm by it, truly. Besides that, it’s not like he hadn’t done anything worse to her. She just didn’t want him to be mad.   
     Cordelia awoke from James Herondale’s embrace, pulling away after lazily kissing his cheek. In his sleep, he made a little discontented noise that made her smile a bit. If she didn’t have work today, she would have delighted in staying curled up to him the rest of the morning.   
    “I love you,” she whispered after she had hastily pulled on her clothes. He grunted a sleepy reply.   
    Lucie was in the kitchen when she walked out, a steaming cup of coffee next to her laptop. Of course, the true sight to behold was how she lay sprawled out across the table.   
    “You okay, Herondale?” Cordelia asked, searching the fridge for milk.   
    “I can’t decide whether or not I should kill this character,” she mumbled. Her blue eyes were darting around, imagining a world that people only saw when she took the time to type it up.   
    “Why are you wanting to kill them?” Cordelia asked, finally finding some almond milk. She sniffed it before deciding it was probably safe. It probably helped that all of the house’s pay day wasn’t until next week and they had to live off what they had now.   
    “It would advance the plot.” Lucie pulled out her ponytail before throwing the band somewhere near the smallest bookcase. James’s little sister was always in some odd position, moping. Cordelia sometimes wondered if writers actually ever wrote or if they just lay around trying to decide whether or not their character should die.  
    “Well, then, isn’t the decision obvious?” Cordelia asked, hoping that it would be and that she could get to work. The real reason she was humoring her best friend was because she needed to braid her hair today and was terrible at fishtails.   
    “What would you do in my situation?” Lucie asked.   
    Cordelia thought about it before responding, “Kill them.”  
     “But death scenes are so hard!” she whimpered, playing with the hem of her huge nightshirt. James had gotten it for her birthday, knowing that his little sister would love the words sprawled across it “So many books, so little times.”   
     “Then don’t be a writer?” Cordelia suggested. She cringed at the sounds of her best friend’s loud shrieks.   
     “Why would you tell me such hurtful things?” she gasped finally, tears in her eyes. Cordelia was just going to assume that her friend had not slept the night before, probably trying to decide how she was going to kill her character all night.   
    “Lucie,” Cordelia sighed, sitting down on the table next to where her friend was making loud noises. She brushed her hair back gently, telling her friend to go to bed. Lucie nodded before leaving.   
    Cordelia sighed and pulled her bright red hair back into the hairband that Lucie had thrown a little bit ago.   
    At the signal of her growling stomach, she walked to the pantry. After a bit of searching, she found the 8 pack of s’mores Poptarts. It was a long debate amongst her roommates which Poptarts to buy. Lucie absolutely loved strawberry Poptarts more than anything, but Cordelia and James hated them with a fiery passion. Of course, that didn’t stop Lucie from using the grocery money to buy a 48 pack of strawberry Poptarts, a horrifying grin on her face as she grabbed them. James and Cordelia almost killed her that day. It had been like fifteen bucks for something so terrible, and so they were upset with her to say the least. In their budget, James and Cordelia could only buy a measly 8 pack of s’mores afterwards. This had been yesterday. To be fair, Cordelia was on her period and may have ate six yesterday. In her defense, when they say 8 counts they don’t mean 8 packages of 2, they mean 8 Poptarts. And, yes, she still ate six s’mores Poptarts, but she also ate everything on her period.   
    That didn’t excuse what Cordelia did next, and she wondered if it ever could be excused.   
    Pulling the pack of s’mores Poptarts from the box, the last pack of s’mores Poptarts, she tentatively bit into the delicious treat. As her teeth smashed on the sugary bar, she moaned softly.   
    After realizing that she had eaten the last package of Poptarts, her eyes widened.   
    “Shit,” she whispered.   
    And then she did it. Grabbing one of the packages of strawberry Poptarts from Lucie’s stash, she settled into the s’mores Poptart box. A changeling Poptart. Horror novels couldn’t fathom how horrible this was.   
    She squeaked before closing the pantry, breathing quickly.   
    “Okay, focus on getting ready, Carstairs,” Cordelia said softly to herself. “Yeah, you’re going to put on makeup and then you’re going to find your nametag. Shit, where’s your nametag? Maybe James knows… James… Oh, no. James… Work. Yeah. Work.”  
    She breathed in and out, wondering if Lucie had given some of the mania she possessed to her.   
    “Hey, Daisy,” a voice mumbled into her ear. She jumped.   
    “Hey, James,” she was proud of having no quaver in her voice.   
    “Are you sure you have to work?” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. Oh boy.   
    “That depends,” she replied breathily, turning around to face him. “Do you know where my name tag is?”  
    “If I hid it, would you not go?” he asked, smiling against her lips as he brushed his mouth with hers.   
    She smirked in reply, “I could be sick.”  
    “My eyes!” Lucie squealed. “My poor, sweet, gorgeous eyes!”  
    James face brightened, and he turned to his little sister with what seemed to be an apology in his golden eyes. Cordelia just blushed.   
    “Well, now that my eyes have been ruined forever,” Lucie said. “I’m going to go run away and live the rest of my days as a recluse.”  
    James wrapped an arm around Cordelia’s hips, ignoring the blush on her face, “I thought only poets did that.”  
    Lucie made a face at him before strutting off to the kitchen.   
    James laughed and kissed Cordelia’s forehead when she was out of sight. A loud ringing sound interrupted them before they could go further.   
    “Shit, it’s my work,” Cordelia told him, putting a finger to his mouth to shush him.   
    “Hello?” she answered. She listened for a bit before grinning widely at James. “Alright, thanks!”  
    “I got called off,” she told him, smiling. “Wanna go do what Lucie interrupted?”  
    “Of course,” he told her. “But I’m going to eat breakfast first.”  
    Cordelia’s eyes widened. “You sure about that?”  
    “Yeah,” he said, giving her a confused face. He began walking to the kitchen, so Cordelia did the only sensible thing possible by jumping on his back.   
    “You okay?” he asked her, putting his hands under her feet to secure her.   
    “Mmhmm,” she kissed his neck. “But maybe-“  
    James glanced behind him to look into her eyes, “Did you kill someone, Daisy?  
    “Of course not!” she giggled.   
    “Then why do you look so guilty?” he asked, reaching into the pantry. She mentally groaned.   
    “I’m not guilty,” she said nonchalantly.   
    He gave her another confused glance but chose to ignore it. Then his hands opened the package of Poptarts. He pulled a piece of that strawberry into his mouth, not realizing what was about to plague his mouth. She wanted to warn him, to beg for forgiveness. But it was too late.   
    James screamed, dropping the package. He dropped Cordelia gently from his back and went to the sink, spitting harshly.  
     “What is it?” Lucie asked, on the table again.  
     “The Poptart makers,” he gasped. “They… they put a… strawberry… in the s’mores box.”  
     Lucie gasped, bouncing off the table and droping to the tile floor of their apartment. Gently pulling up the fallen Poptarts, she blew on them before taking bites and smiling.   
     “Ew,” Cordelia said to her friend.  
     “I can’t… I must call them. Must tell them before they do it to another poor soul,” James whispered brokenly.   
     “James,” Cordelia sighed, already knowing how dramatic her boyfriend was. Considering how he’s acted in the past, she wouldn’t be shocked if he tried to sue them.   
     “Yes, Daisy?” James asked. “And before you say anything, just know I love you. If I’ve learned anything today, I know that the world is unpredictable.”  
      She closed her eyes before saying, “James, I switched the Poptarts.”  
      James eyes widened, and he whispered, “What?”  
      “I ate all of the s’mores Poptarts and I didn’t want you to be mad… So I grabbed one of Lucie’s strawberry Poptarts and I…I put it in the box.”  
       James started quoting Julius Caesar under his breath.   
       “I didn’t stab you, James!” Cordelia snapped, not wanting to deal with his drama.   
      “You metaphorically stabbed me,” James whispered. “So much worse.”  
      Cordelia rolled her eyes, “It’s not the worst thing I have ever done.”  
      “You convinced me that a strawberry Poptart, a vile, evil, disgusting-“  
     Cordelia groaned, “I already feel terrible for even sort of lying to you, James.”  
     “How can I ever trust you?”  
     “James, don’t say something like that,” Cordelia reason with him. “You can’t mean it.”  
     He fell to the floor, whispering, “Then fall, Caesar.”  
     She rolled her eyes again before sitting on the floor with him.   
     “I’m sorry,” she told him gently.   
     James glanced at the tile floor a while before finally asking, “Was our first fight since we’ve moved in together about Poptarts?”  
     Cordelia laughed, “I think so.”  
    James smiled at her, eyes crinkling. “But now we have to get even.”  
    “What?” Cordelia asked, confused.   
    “You have to eat a strawberry Poptart,” he told her.


End file.
